Prayer For A Miracle Part 5  Learning to Fly
by jaclynhide
Summary: In this chapter House and Cameron share a moment that will come to haunt both of them and House takes his first tentative steps towards his death.  Sorry the chapters are separate but I couldn't figure out how to group them together! Feedback welcome!


**Prayer For A Miracle Part 5 Learning To Fly**

"Above the planet on a wing and a prayer,  
My grubby halo, a vapour trail in the empty air,  
Across the clouds I see my shadow fly  
Out of the corner of my watering eye  
A dream unthreatened by the morning light  
Could blow this soul right through the roof of the night  
There's no sensation to compare with this  
Suspended animation, A state of bliss  
Can't keep my mind from the circling skies  
Tongue-tied and twisted just an earth-bound misfit, I"

"Learning To Fly" Pink Floyd

On her knees on the cliff in front of him he watched as she rocked back and forth like a child. For the first time he noticed that she was holding what appeared to be a large silver pitcher; 'no, not a pitcher...an urn!' he gasped in realization. Then he remembered that he had left her with the solemn task of disposing of his ashes. "House damn you, why?!" Cameron sobbed and cried out in both grief and anger. 'Why indeed' he thought to himself. What was he thinking giving her this task. He should have had Wilson do it or even Chase but not her. She opened the jar and dipped her fingers into his remains. A tingle went through him, it was as if he could feel her touch. The breeze picked up and began taking bits of him away in different directions. With one last loud cry she turned the recepticle over and watched helplessly as all that was left of her boss was taken to the heavens. House could feel the wind swirling inside of him; he WAS the wind now. At least for a brief moment anyway. What a wonderful feeling!

"I am here Allison," he cried out in his mind with a force he never knew he possessed. For just one split second she seemed to stop as if listening to him, as if she could feel his presence. She reached a hand up and he felt her fingers graze his cheek with what must have been sheer luck (or was it?) He could feel her fingers! He marveled at the fact that he could feel her as he reached out his own hand to touch her as well. He watched as he passed right through her features; her strong jaw and smooth cheeks. Closing his eyes he pretended to be able to feel her soft lips with the ball of his thrumb as it grazed them.

"Allison" just uttering her name was enough to send chills through him.

**Cont.**

"Allison," he said in almost a whisper "please stay with me tonight. I'll be a good boy, I promise." He didn't want to be alone tonight, not tonight.

She took each tentative step towards the bed. How could she deny him now and truly, did she really want to? She stood next to the what seemed like an almost impossibly small single bed and watched as he scooted over a bit to give her some space. Flinging back the cover he patted the empty space gently with his hand in an invitation. She hesitated for only a moment before crawling fully clothed into bed with him. "Here," he said stretching out his arm at a right angle to his body, "put your head on my shoulder." "Like his obedient student she did as she was told, laying the palm of her right hand on his chest. His heart was beating wildly, his breathing erratic. But then again, hers was too. He was sweating but shook with chills as he tossed and turned to get comfortable all the while holding on to her.

"Do you want me to get you another blanket?" she asked. A look of panic crossed his face, "No don't leave this spot OK?" He seemed like a little boy but his voice still commanded her like always so she stayed. And then they began talking. They talked about his past, the pain in his leg and in his heart. She told him about her past and her romance with a teacher in med school which made him smile. She bravely asked him if he had ever loved anyone else but Stacey and without hesitation while looking into her eyes he said 'yes.' He didn't have to say anything more than that. He gave more to her that night than she could ever have hoped for; he let her pass through a door that he had kept tightly shut to everyone who ever touched his life. When they finally exhausted all conversation she touched his face gently, every fingertip filled with an all encompassing love. He smiled, lifted her hand from his face and kissed each digit. Then he placed it against his chest and held it there.

"Till the last time it beats it's yours, you know." It was a statement and not a question that he murmured against her lips with his. The kiss was delicate and hungry but the hunger was from a appetite that couldn't be filled. She knew this and understood that this was enough. HIs lips were hot and parched, his tongue testing and probing. She pulled away suddenly, knowing that for both of them this was torturous. Her eyes filled with tears which he kissed away as she cradled her head back onto his shoulder again. Little did they know that they had set in motion a fate that would very literally come back to haunt them both. But, for now at least they relaxed. This time they could sleep.

The sun was just beginning to appear over the tops of the NYC skyline when she awoke with a start. Something was wrong. She sensed it deep inside of her. At first she was disoriented but then remembered last night and the reason for her what should have been awkward position. His shoulder was cold, for that matter so was the rest of him. Then she understood what was bothering her: his heart had stopped. Her hand that had laid over him all night could feel nothing moving beneath it. Now she understood why he needed her to stay. Now she realized their first kiss was his kiss goodbye.

"Greg!", she found her voice and began shaking him as she kept repeating his name. Then her training kicked in and she leaped for the phone, dialing 911. Screw his wish for a DNR (do not resuscitate) order. "2756 Hudson St." she gasped, "I need an ambulance NOW." Leaving the phone off the hook she moved back over House and began CPR. "Come on...come on..." she found herself saying out loud as she began compressions to his heart. Alternating between pressing all her weight into his chest and filling his lungs with her breath was exhausting her but she knew she couldn't stop. Somewhere in the back of her mind she couldn't help but wonder why she was doing this; why should she try to bring him back from a fate that he would be doomed to repeat all too soon. But her instincts and deep need for him kept her going. Putting her waif like fingers against his neck she thought that she felt the faint flickering of life within him so she continued. What was only about 10 minutes seemed to drag on for hours before the EMT's burst into the room and took over. "He's so cold..." she murmured to herself as the tech's strapped leads onto him. "CLEAR!" She saw his chest rise violently with the shock they administered. He seemed reluctant to return from wherever it was that he disappeared to though because they had to repeat the procedure more than once. Then suddenly his heart began to beat again, although it's tempo was eratic. She lay her head on his chest and could hear it's fragile thumps. And as the paramedics whisked him away she knew it wouldn't be long before her own heart would be breaking...again.

He lay in the hospital bed disoriented and scared. All he could remember was feeling Cameron's breath on his shoulder and then boom...he was here. They told him his heart had stopped and that they had to resuscitate him more than once. If that was true then why didn't he see any 'white light' or long gone friends and family while he was 'away'? Isn't that what was supposed to happen? Did this mean that he was right all along and there really was nothing beyond this existence at all? His eyes scanned the room, noting the heart monitor which revealed way too few peaks and valleys for a normal heart. The next thing he noticed, and all too painfully was that he couldn't breathe very well. His lungs felt like they were filled with lead and it took way too much effort to make them work. 'I'm suffocating' he thought to himself as a huge wave of sheer panic gripped him by the throat. Where was everyone? He made a mental effort to reach for the button that would summon the nurse but found that his muscles wouldn't cooperate. He was paralyzed. His body was now truly a shell and not a very good one either. He tried to yell out but there was only the faintest whistle of air that escaped from him. 'I don't want to die alone' was the prevailing thought in the midst of the terror, "someone...please...be here...'

Cameron sat exhausted in a chair outside of his room, trying to catch her own breath. The makeup that she so carefully applied that morning ran in streaks down her face but she didn't care. She made no attempt to wipe away the remants of the night before. She touched her lips with her fingers. His lips had been there, been against hers. The thought should have brought a smile to her face but it was a bittersweet memory. To think that she will never know the depth of his passion or that he will never know her's. She longed to feel his hands and his mouth on her, his body moving against hers and filling her with fire. 'Stop it' she told herself, ''this is a dying man you are fantasizing about!'" But he was more than that to her now, much more. 'You ok Cameron?' a familiar voice broke through her thoughts. It was Dr. Wilson. She looked up at him and thought she saw a hint of redness in his eyes. Had he been crying too? "I don't know" she said earnestly, "I really don't know. And you?" She felt a kinship with him, they both shared the same emptiness. "Been better." he answered too quickly. He couldn't hide the depth of his despair either. He sighed and just shook his head. "I wish he had come to me sooner with this," he said, almost to himself, "maybe I could have done something more..." Cameron stood up and clasped his hands in hers, "there was nothing you or anyone else could have done to stop this. Inside you know this." she wrapped her arms around his neck and held him gently. He held her back, both of them wanting to break down but neither of them willing to let it show. "How long has it been since you've eaten?" he asked her, now holding her at arms length. "Food? What's that?" her attempt at lightening the mood failed miserably. She didn't want food or anything else for that matter. All she really wanted was to go back to last night. To be able to repeat it over and over again so that it would never end up as just a memory. That was what she longed for. Would give anything for. "Why don't we take a break and go to the cafeteria?" he put one arm around her shoulder interrupting her train of thought and began to lead her down the hall and away from House's room. They got to the end of the corridor when suddenly she froze. She stopped so fast that it almost threw Wilson off balance. Cameron felt an uneasiness that she couldn't explain. Suddenly her heart began to race and her breath quickened. What a time for a panic attack, she thought to herself. But no, this was more than that. As determined as Wilson was to take her in one direction the pull in the other was greater. "I need to check on him first..." she turned back toward his room down the hall and began to walk slowly, then her pace quickened until she was almost running. "Ok, ok" Wilson followed behind, keeping up the pace. Reaching the door she glanced through the glass at his still body in the room. "Wilson..." she whispered to him under her breath as he flew past her and through the door. Crossing over the threshold she found herself next to him, peering into his desperate eyes. HIs hands were clenched tightly, his lips and fingers were blue from lack of oxygen. She sensed more than saw the room fill with others, her comrades and coworkers gathering around him. Reaching for his hand she tried to open his fist but it was useless, his fingers dug into his palm with an ever increasing pressure. HIs chest rose and then fell so slowly that she didn't know if he would manage to take another breath Death was claiming his body inch but painfully slow inch. She saw the respirator next to the bed and began to reach for it but then stopped. She looked into his eyes instead. His gaze held her in place, it never wavered. 'He' was still in there, locked in a tomb of flesh. She could see so much in his eyes. It was as if he was speaking to her, laying everything that he was and wanted in front of her. And in that instant, as they spoke to each other without words she understood it all. To save him was to let him go, to set him free. She was to be his silent witness and partner on this final journey, seeing him just far enough to the edge before he spread his wings to fly.

**TO BE CONTINUED...**


End file.
